After a few rounds of haggling, the head of the cooks' guild bought the recipe for Queen's Bread and the honey from Norn for the equivalent of 500 gold florins. Norn's pockets bulged, but he kept a straight face while his heart was bursting with joy, feeling that he had taken another step toward his corrupt noble lifestyle.
The guildmaster escorted Norn to the door, and with his spirits high, Norn wandered the streets. That's when he spotted something in a weapons shop that caught his eye.
"If it's that thing, then maybe it would work for my scrawny arms and legs," Norn muttered, stroking his chin as he walked in.
"Good day to you, sir," the shopkeeper greeted, wearing a green hat and a red vest. He bowed to Norn with a flourish. "How may I assist you?"
Norn, in a good mood, smiled and said, "I've always heard that Venetian merchants are the best at making deals. Today, I finally see it for myself."
"Of course," the shopkeeper replied. "Venice is a barren land with little to offer but our trade. We rely on our wits and our wares to get by."
The shopkeeper bowed again. "Your presence here is an honor. Though my shop may be humble, you won't find a better or more complete selection anywhere else."
Norn let out a chuckle. He thought the shopkeeper was exaggerating a bit.
"If you don't believe me, sir, tell me what you need. If I don't have it here, you won't find it anywhere in Veneto."
Norn handed over his "sewing needle."
"Find me something better than this."
The shopkeeper took the sword with both hands, drew it, and examined the blade's pattern.
"Ah, forged with over ten layers of folding, light yet resilient," he said, tapping the blade with his finger to produce a clear ring. "Three times quenched, with a steel edge."
"Clearly the work of those unsophisticated blacksmiths from Nuremberg," the shopkeeper added, then shifted his tone. "The scabbard is decent, but the rest is nothing special!"
Norn bristled as the sword he had bought for 48 silver denarii was dismissed as worthless. "So, tell me, what do you consider good?"
The shopkeeper turned and took down two swords from the wall.
"For a noble like yourself, who values aesthetics and dueling, this swift sword would be more suitable," he said, handing one to Norn. Norn handled it and found that it was even thinner than his "sewing needle," only an inch and a half wide, but with a thicker spine and a round guard instead of the popular cruciform hilt.
"A blade this narrow can't block properly anyway, so why not focus entirely on offense? This swift sword's thick spine makes the blade more robust and stable. And the round guard offers better hand protection during thrusts."
"If you're looking for a sword for the battlefield, though, this one would better suit your needs," the shopkeeper said, handing over the other sword. The blade was about an inch wide at the tip but widened to over three inches at the base, forming a sharp triangle.
"This sword retains the piercing power for armor penetration while the wider blade allows for better slashing and blocking."
"Not to disparage them," the shopkeeper said proudly, "but Nuremberg's self-important ideas just don't cut it! Our swords are the best."
"What about that?" Norn asked, pointing to what truly interested him: a crossbow.
The shopkeeper's face soured a bit as he took down the crossbow. "If those Genoese cheats have anything worth mentioning, it's this."
The crossbow was about a meter long, with a foot stirrup at the front and a bow arm about 40 centimeters long, strung with a thick, nearly inch-wide bowstring. Norn tried to draw it but couldn't budge it.
The shopkeeper braced the crossbow against his waist, took out a strange lever, and inserted it into a slot on the crossbow. The hook on the lever caught the bowstring, and with a simple pull, the string was easily drawn back and locked into place.
"With a lever, you can easily cock it," the shopkeeper said, then loaded a bolt and handed the crossbow to Norn.
Norn aimed at a target on the other side of the shop and pulled the trigger. The bowstring, suppressed for so long, roared to life. The thick bolt flew in a straight line, effortlessly piercing the iron ring on the target and burying itself halfway in, with only the fletching still quivering.
"You see, an untrained peasant can easily take down a heathen heavy cavalryman with this. Right now, it's only 50 silver denarii, and it comes with a cocking lever and 20 bolts. Sir, wouldn't you consider arming your retainers with such a weapon?"
Despite the shopkeeper's eager look, Norn ultimately bought a light crossbow and 50 bolts.
While Norn was wandering around, Baron Otto and DeMol left the inn and rode to a monastery.
The monastery had thick walls, with four watchtowers at each corner. The main building had nothing but a pointed cross on top, and soldiers in white tunics with red crosses patrolled and kept watch everywhere. It looked more like a fortress than a monastery.
The two men dismounted at the gate, and DeMol stepped forward to hand over a letter. "Please inform Sir Jean Legoff that Baron Otto Adler of Mecklenburg seeks an audience."
The soldier took the letter and turned to report. After a while, he gestured for the two to follow him inside.
They passed through the heavy gate and a noisy training yard before arriving in front of an office.
The soldier knocked on the door, and after receiving permission, he gestured for the two to enter.
Otto pushed open the wooden door first.
A knight, dressed in a white tunic with a red cross and chainmail, sat behind the desk, holding the letter that had been delivered earlier. He waved for Otto and DeMol to take a seat.
"Thank you for your sponsorship of the Lord's cause," Sir Jean Legoff said, putting down the letter and looking at Baron Otto solemnly.
"The Archbishop of Mainz wrote that you wish to make a pilgrimage to the Holy Land and join our order to atone for your sins. Could you tell me what sins have led you to forsake your worldly nobility and join our ranks?"
After a long silence, Otto looked Sir Jean Legoff straight in the eye. "My wife, Eve, unable to bear the loss of our son, chose to end her own life."
"We mere mortals cannot fathom the will of the Lord, but I believe He will show mercy to all and grant us the chance for redemption," Otto said, making the sign of the cross with a grave expression.
"Are you aware that once you join us, unless your term of service is complete or the Grand Master grants a special pardon, you will serve alongside us, fearing and serving the Lord, wielding His sword, and protecting the innocent from the persecution of heathens until you receive His call?"
Sir Jean Legoff's face was stern, as if he were trying to peer into Otto's soul through his eyes.
"I am well aware. I only hope to reach the Holy Land soon, to pray beneath the Lord's cross and seek forgiveness for our sins as soon as possible."
"And do you also know that worldly possessions will be but fleeting illusions? We will live in poverty, taking vows of chastity."
"With great pleasure."
"Then," Sir Jean Legoff rose to his feet, "welcome to our order, brother."
"Your initiation ceremony must be conducted by the Grand Master in the Holy Land. In ten days, a Venetian merchant ship will depart. It will first head to Constantinople and then to the Port of St. Acre. You can travel overland to the Holy Land from St. Acre."